Rosetta Stone
by lifeluver
Summary: Kurt speaks in code. Five times Finn struggles to understand him, and one time he doesn't.  Finn/Kurt brotherly bonding, with some mentions of Klaine and Finchel.


Finn has his epiphany halfway through fourth period while he's staring out the window overlooking the parking lot: Kurt is just like Ernest Hemingway.

Kurt's confused, and has this look on his face like he's trying to hold back a smile, and Finn's never really understood why he does that, and he says, "Is this your way of asking me for English tutoring?"

Finn rolls his eyes, though he makes a mental note to take Kurt up on the offer later. He thinks about explaining himself, but Kurt's eyes are tired and his expression pinched, so Finn decides to drop the subject.

That night he digs through his backpack, all the way to the bottom where discarded candy wrappers and a couple spare condoms are hidden, and pulls out an old spiral labeled months ago in neon blue pen with meticulous handwriting that doesn't belong to him _Math_. He crosses it out, and renames the journal for his own purposes, then sits back to admire his handiwork.

**I.**

Thursdays in Lima are cold and rainy, and Finn's pretty sure it's not just coincidence but some kind of supernatural force, because really, this isn't how weather is supposed to work. And yet, for the past seven Thursdays he's arrived at school shivering and drenched, while Kurt follows with his sleek black umbrella that he never shares due to their 'vast and aesthetically unpleasing' height difference.

He's waiting now by the side of the gym, been waiting for over twenty minutes because Kurt promised to give him a ride home that day after practice. But Kurt's nowhere to be found, and Finn is just about to place this incident at the bottom of the very long list of reasons why he needs a new car, or more specifically, Kurt's car (he is the oldest, after all) when the auditorium door opens and Kurt walks by him without sparing a glance.

Finn jogs after him, feeling the raindrops splatter his muddy football uniform and wonders why Kurt hasn't got his umbrella; why he doesn't even seem to notice that his fluffy sweater is getting drenched; why his eyes are red and his lips swollen.

They drive in silence for fifteen minutes, speeding past playgrounds and elementary schools, past Finn's old neighborhood and the old tire swing he used to play on back before Noah was Puck and girls were awesome instead of gross. The air conditioning dries the rain off his red cheeks, but Kurt's are still wet.

The door is open and Finn has his bag when he finally turns to Kurt and says, "You ok?"

Kurt's staring blankly out the window and announces to the angry clouds, "I'm going shopping."

Finn gets out of the car and watches Kurt peel back out of the driveway and back out in the opposite direction of the mall. When Burt asks, Finn tells him about extra dance rehearsals and spa-time, then insists they get some vegetarian pizza along with their regular pepperoni.

The next morning the pizza has disappeared from the fridge, and Kurt is almost, kind of smiling at him while fielding his dad's questions about dance practice, and whether he's doing more football stuff, and Finn thinks _maybe_, _maybe this brother stuff isn't so hard._

_Going shopping: back off, leave me alone, cover my ass; see also: no I don't want to play Halo 3 with you, stop asking or I'll burn everything ing your closet made of cotton EDIT: don't let Burt see this month's credit card bill _

**II.**

The lights brighten and the music softens and Finn's on his feet in seconds, clapping and whooping so hard it takes him a moment to realize that he's not the only one; that the entire glee club is giving his (almost) brother a standing ovation, even Rachel.

The song was totally weird, and the outfits were insane and Finn had no clue what any of it meant, but Kurt had looked alive on that stage for the first time since Burt collapsed in a gray, cold garage, and Finn would hand over a thousand gift certificates to Breadstix if it meant that that empty, hollow look would never come back.

He tells Rachel he'll catch up with her in a bit and waits for the rest of the club to filter out towards their cars. When the last backup dancer has left he hops the stage steps three at a time and slaps Kurt hard on the back where he's sitting backstage looking at a mirror, wiping his makeup off.

"Dude that was _awesome_. Seriously, don't tell Rachel, but I think you might have this competition in the bag." He's grinning so hard his cheeks are starting to ache, and it takes him a good twenty seconds to realize that Kurt's not; instead he's looking at him with wide, accusing eyes, and he feels his own smile slide off his face.

"Really? You liked it?" Kurt's not facing him, he's staring at his reflection in the mirror, and Finn really wants him to turn around so he has some clue about what's about to happen. "It wasn't too faggy for you?"

Finn's mind goes blank and all he can think is _blanket, Burt, wrong, sorry. _But that's over now, he knows it is because he apologized, he asked for forgiveness with a red curtain dress, and even Burt's taking him to baseball games again, and he and Kurt, they're supposed to be cool now, after a long summer of quiet lunches and sticky barbecues.

Except Kurt's looking straight at him now, and he's not crying, not even close, just looks furious and sad and beat-down like his mom used to after she'd come home from a graveyard shift and see Finn's carefully written notes on the message pad detailing calls from the electric company, and the heating, and the phone.

"N-no," he stutters, confused and unsure, because he doesn't want to go back to the stony silences and locked doors, not now, not when things are finally getting good again. Then suddenly he recovers from the shock of having his own words thrown back in his face and the confusion turns into anger. "Look, I don't know what your problem is, all I was trying to do was compliment you. Say you did good, and it all worked out in the end, but whatever. See you at the house." _Not home, never home, home smells of deodorant and stale pizza, not oil and lavender perfume_.

He's stomping off the stage, taking the steps two at a time again and slinging his bag over his shoulder with unnecessary force when he hears it, quiet enough that he's not sure if he's heard correctly, or if he's even supposed to hear it in the first place.

"All I wanted to do was _sing_ with him."

When he finally gets the nerve to turn around Kurt's already gone.

Burt calls Kurt up to dinner that night, Finn sitting sullenly at the table, stabbing his plate with his fork, but all he gets in reply is the volume on _Defying Gravity_ turned up as loud as the speakers can go. Burt comes back to the table, cold, tasteless salads awaiting him, with a shake of the head and a muttered, "In one of his snits again," as an apology. Finn snorts and stabs his plate again, vindicated that someone is on his side, even if he doesn't really know it.

Next year when Rachel takes him up to New York for one of her college visits she insists that he see a Broadway show with her, since it's what _every young New York couple does, of course_ and they're still pretending that long distance isn't too hard, and it won't be forever, and _I love you, it'll all be ok. _

He dresses up in a suit he didn't pick out with a tie he did and they go to _Wicked _and Finn thinks it might be one of the weirdest things he's ever seen in his life. Near the end, the green chick takes the stage to belt out a song he's heard thousands of times over car stereos and in showers and Rachel is mouthing the lyrics about change and leaping and freedom along with her and Finn thinks _huh, that's weird_ because all he can hear is _not fair not fair it's not fucking fair _

**III.**

"Finn, _no_." And, okay, Kurt can be kind of confusing sometimes, but even Finn has to admit that there really is no language barrier on that one.

"But you're not even using it, Blaine's picking you up," he pleads, following Kurt around his bedroom like a lost puppy while he primps. Their parents are out of town on a belated honeymoon since Kurt's back at McKinley and they've got a partial refund on the Dalton tuition.

"It's the principle of the thing," Kurt answers, his nose high in the air, and Finn knows now that's code for: _I have no good reason, but screw you if you think I'm letting you touch my baby_. Finn's close to pulling out his own hair, and his right pocket is pulsing from yet another text message, and he knows that this is a serious ticking time bomb that he might never have a chance for again (_twenty-five, when we're twenty-five Finn)_ so he goes all in.

"Kurt, Rachel just watched a musical about hair or something, and she's sending me all these dirty text messages and asking me to come over, and if you let me borrow your car just this one time I swear I'll cover for you _anytime_ and I'll do both of our chores for a month and never ask you for anything again as long as I live."

He knows he's miscalculated though, because Kurt's clearly stuck on _dirty text messages _and _Rachel _in the same sentence, and before he knows what's happening Blaine's ringing the doorbell and Kurt's got soap in his ear and he's pretty sure he's not getting permission to take the car.

He takes it anyway though, because maybe in this backwards world where _I'm fine_ means everything but and _leave me alone_ is code for _please don't_, maybe here _no _can mean _sure, of course_, just this once.

It turns out to be a truly, monumentally bad idea. Apparently some lines got crossed and what Rachel actually wants to do is _watch_ the stupid musical, which is really just a bunch of naked people dancing, so Finn's half turned on and half grossed out, and he's never been all that good at math, but measuring by his disappearing boner they pretty much cancel each other out.

By the time he realizes that this isn't just an extended bit of foreplay the finale is playing and Rachel is putting in Funny Girl and he has to try to mask his groan with a coughing fit and a wide smile. It's past midnight when he wakes up, Rachel's dads hovering over him with disapproving stares, and he realizes two things: 1) he has no idea when Kurt was planning to be back and 2) he's seriously screwed.

He races through the streets, alternating glances between the road and the clock, and thinks that this isn't fair, this wasn't even worth it, and now he'll be lucky if Kurt leaves the damn car to him in his will, and _shit_ if his mom finds out he is so _dead_, he won't be seeing Rachel for weeks and all of a sudden there's either a really big dog or a really small deer in the road and he's swerving and _fuck_

_ Ow. _

At first all he can see is white and he thinks for a terrifying moment that he's gone blind. Then the white clouding his vision starts to fade and he becomes acutely aware of the fact that his head has evidently been cracked into a thousand pieces by a blunt axe, that's how much it hurts.

"Finn, you _imbecile,"_ he hears off in a corner and he follows the voice to see Kurt perched on a plastic hospital chair, biting his nails, and slowly the details of how he wound up here are starting to come back to him.

"I'm so sorry," he starts, trying to sit up in the hard mattress. "I was gonna have the car back before you got home and I thought you'd never find out, and I screwed up, and the musical wasn't even about hair, and shit Kurt, I'm _sorry_."

There's a hand on his chest pushing him back down in the bed and someone's hissing something he can't hear over the roaring in his ears, but he hopes Kurt heard him, that he understands he never meant for this to happen.

"You're going to hurt yourself," and this time he makes out the words, even though they sound distant and confusing, because he's pretty sure he's already done that.

"'M sorry," he tries again, his voice sounding slow and slurred, like it did after he and Puck broke into Puck's moms liquor cabinet. "I wrecked your car, and it's your baby and I don't even know if it was a dog or a deer, but I'm pretty sure it was a mutant either way."

Kurt seems kind of perplexed by this, but Finn's finally realized that he might be on some serious painkillers which would explain why he's not making the most sense ever, and also why his toes feel fuzzy, and why he's pretty sure he can hear purple. Then Kurt leans in close and Finn notices that someone's holding his hand, making little indents where the nails dig into his palm, and he braces himself for the verbal smackdown he's about to receive when Kurt says, "Honestly, Finn, you don't think I care about the stupid _car_, do you?"

That is not what he was expecting, because given everything he's learned about Kurt over the past year or so, he's pretty sure that next to his dad and maybe Mercedes, that car is _exactly_ what Kurt cares about. The guy celebrates it's birthday, for gods sake, like it should be some kind of national holiday, and the last time Finn saw the precious car it looked more like a tree, with a hunk of metal caught inside while he begged the EMTs to let him fix it because _my brother's gonna be so pissed_.

"Am I dying?" he asks, thinking that that can be the only possible explanation for this, short of some sort of alternate reality, but he's got enough of a headache already.

Kurt laughs, loud and clear, and it makes Finn smile goofily, because he thinks he might've said something right and honestly, these painkillers are freaking _awesome_.

"No, Finn, you're not dying. You've just got a bump on the head, you're gonna be fine."

_You imbecile: don't ever do that again; be more freaking careful with my things; you scared me. See also: moron, idiot, Neanderthal. EDIT: when used in relation to any other jock at McKinley- beat the crap out of the asshole first, ask questions later._

**IV. **

Back when Burt and his mom first got married, Finn accepted the whole 'lady chat' thing as Kurt's slightly warped idea of male bonding. It was weird, but Kurt had just transferred to a new school and was probably lonely, so Finn figured he could toss him this bone and not complain (too much). Really, he rationalized, he was doing Kurt a favor.

It becomes more difficult to keep up this charade when he's sitting in the living room at two seventeen in the morning, balancing a glass of warm milk on his lap and watching the door for Kurt's entrance.

"Kurt!" he says, feigning surprise at seeing his brother.

"Finn? What are you doing up?" Kurt asks as he pulls off his shoes and quietly locks the door behind him, careful not to wake up their parents (Finn had rather expertly covered for Kurt missing curfew, fyi).

"Oh, I was watching the game." He gestures lamely towards the television, which has been off for the past two hours.

"...Right. Well, I'm off to bed."

"Hang on-I thought, I mean it's been a while since our last...thing." He holds up the glass of milk hopefully.

Kurt rolls his eyes dramatically but plops down on a chair next to him. "Have you been waiting for me?"

"No," Finn counters weakly.

"It's a Friday night, and you spent all night moping and waiting to discuss your girl problems with your gay step-brother. This must be bad."

Finn makes a face, but doesn't exactly have a way to refute the point.

"Rachel and I, we got into a fight."

"Shocking."

"Shut up. It's been going really well this time, you know that." Kurt makes some pained noise of agreement, and Finn winces and mentally reminds himself of the importance of locking doors. "It's just this whole NYADA thing."

At this, Kurt perks up in his seat. "What about it? She's not still worried is she, she's practically a shoe-in." The words aren't bitter, exactly, but he picks up on some tension there anyway.

"No, she's back to Rachel-mode, so she knows she'll get in. But she wants me to apply now." Kurt raises his eyebrows in surprise, then immediately tries to suppress it. "You don't think I could get in," Finn says accusingly.

"No, it's not that!" Finn huffs in annoyance and sips his milk, which at least can be trusted not to turn on him. "Oh don't be that way, Finn. If you put in the effort you could definitely have a serious shot. But it's a performing arts school that specializes in musical theater. I know you love to sing, but you've never expressed any interest in acting."

"I did Rocky Horror last year."

"It got cancelled. And you only played Brad because Rachel signed you up for it before anyone else could get a word in."

"How do you even remember that stuff? It was like a year ago."

"Those of us not as blessed with solos tend to have a better memory for when they're snatched out of our grasp. In case you were wondering, you sang half of my lines in the 'Time Warp.' Because God forbid we go through a whole group song with neither you nor Rachel having a lead."

"You know, Rachel likes to say that jealousy is an 'emotion common in those with inferior talent.' and 'bitterness doesn't look good on anyone.'"

Kurt hits him over the head with a pillow and Finn slops milk down his shirt.

"The day I take Rachel's fashion advice will be a cold day in hell," he mutters over Finn's indignant protests. "Stop wiping, you want to dab or it'll stain."

"I was kidding! I mean, she does say that, but I don't take it seriously."

"You never answered the question, by the way. Do you actually want to be an actor?"

He stops trying to figure out the difference between a wipe and a dab and shrugs. "I don't know. I guess it'd be fun, and I'd get to move to New York with her. Do you really not think I could do it?"

"Look, Finn, you know how insane Rachel gets when she sees one of her solos being threatened? How single-mindedly ambitious she becomes when she gets a goal in mind?"

"The crazy eyes, yeah."

"Right. Well, I don't want to advocate Rachel's particular brand of mental illness, but she gets like that because she just wants it _so bad._ She breathes theater and music with every fiber of her being, and the idea that she could lose it terrifies her more than anything else in the world. She'd be willing to sacrifice nearly anything just to get an _opportunity_ to prove herself. I'm not saying those are admirable personality traits, but it is what it is, and that's what you need to feel if you're going to succeed in this business."

** "**Oh," Finn says, and studies the pattern on the carpet for a minute. "I don't think I feel like that."

"That's ok," Kurt replies easily.

"I don't think I feel that way about anything." It's the first time he's admitted how completely aimless he's felt ever since coming back from New York that year. He actually feels a little relieved.

"There's still time, Finn. We're seventeen, we're not supposed to have everything figured out yet."

"Rachel does. And you do. I just...sometimes I get so scared because it feels like everyone else knows what they want to do with their life and I have no clue."

"Sometimes I get scared because I know exactly what I want to do with my life, but feel like I'll never actually achieve it."

They sit in heavy silence for a few minutes, both quietly sipping their milk.

"Wasn't senior year supposed to be like, awesome?" Finn asks.

"False advertising. This sucks."

"Seriously."

_lady chats over warm milk: the male equivalent of drowning your sorrows in Ben & Jerry's ice cream. Surprisingly effective and not lame at all, no matter what Puck says._

**V.**

"Er, Kurt?"

"Yes?" he answers, surprisingly calm given the circumstances.

"Is there a reason you're throwing Katy Perry CDs out the second floor window?"

"Yes."

It didn't seem like he was planning on expanding on that answer, so Finn tried again, though hesitantly as Kurt was rather haphazardly wielding a pair of scissors. "Uh, and what would that reason be?"

"Because I no longer have any use for them," Kurt answers, as though this was the most obvious answer in the world. And okay, it is kinda obvious, but Finn's fairly sure there's a bit more to this one.

A slashed photo of Kurt and Blaine's smiling faces at a fair goes fluttering out the window behind the latest Pink CD. Finn can't help but wonder why Kurt still buys CDs when he's got an iPod.

"Do you maybe want to go downstairs, get some milk and have a la-or a boy chat, I guess?" Finn tries hopefully.

"Oh, this is so far beyond warm milk, you have _no idea_."

Finn kinda panics at that, whatever it means.

"Think you, sophomore year, right before Sectionals. This is not moping, this is chair-kicking anger."

Oh. Yeah, that's not a good sign. He distinctly remembers doing some serious damage to his cowboy wallpaper around that time, and his mom was _pissed_.

"Uh, well then do you want me to go beat up Blaine?"

Kurt considers the offer for a moment. "No, violence is never the answer," he says, while stabbing a teddy bear so hard the stuffing comes out.

"Right. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nope."

"Uh, is there anything at all I can do?"

"You can help me start a bonfire."

Now that, Finn could do.

_Don't beat up the boyfriend: give the boyfriend a stern talking to with the very real threat of a beat down, if he ever steps out of line again. EDIT: Never let Kurt find out about this talking to, or you will still bear the bruises from Mr. Violence-is-not-the-answer two weeks later. Also, find a way to build a bonfire with less collateral damage to surroundings._

**I.**

It's the middle of midterms in his first year of college and Finn's pretty sure if he learns anything else his brain is going to actually explode. He's spent the past two days trying to understand trigonometry and how to use the pythagorean theorem when he can't even _spell it_ and he wishes for the easier days when he could just copy off Brittany, who made it all seem so simple.

But those days are gone now and he's got to pass this class so he can never take math again in his life, so he's cooped up in the school library, which is about seventeen times the size of McKinley's and with about as many more books too.

He forgot to mute his laptop, though, and the girl next to him glares fiercely when the tiny _ping_ announces that someone has commented on his picture. He follows the link because anything has to be better than staring at meaningless numbers as they meld together on the page.

It's a photo his roommate posted that morning of them last weekend at a frat party. Finn's got a giant beer bong halfway down his throat, his eyes open wide and the spray of alcohol coating his collar while Jay cheers him on. He barely suppresses his smile at the memory, then winces at the thought of the hangover that followed, and scrolls down to read the comment.

_Honestly, Finn, khackis and plaid? Sometimes I'm ashamed to even know you._

He remembers a time when he would've been confused by that, would've stared at the comment for a couple minutes before deleting it, or answered _screw you, asshole_, but now he just laughs and types _miss u too bro _and makes a mental note to call Kurt after this test.

(And Finn totally aced that test on _A Sun Also Rises)_


End file.
